Martyr's Stone
by EEevee
Summary: Science created them, Society depended on them, Humanity needed them, and now Government has set out to eradicate them. In this future, the blood is in the stones./ Dark fic. Warnings inside./
1. Chapter 1

Title: Martyr's Stone

Author: Eeevee

Rating: M

Warnings: Germancest (is this a warning or a bonus buy?), "Nyotalia", moral scientific issues, selfcest, and probably gore, guts, and language. Mild sex scenes and character death are inevitable. Unconventional pairings and strange premise. NO rape but may contain dubcon or intent to do bad things.

Disclaimer: Hetalia characters do not belong to me; this is written for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: Science created them, Society depended on them, Humanity needed them, and now Government has set out to eradicate them. In this future, the blood is in the stones. Dark fic. Warnings inside.

Prologue

Germany sighed and put down the morning paper. Slowly he pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose with big fingers. The slow, familiar motions soothed him a little. There wasn't much these days that did that for him anymore. The tribulations of the past seemed to be so simple. Of course, he was aware that most things looked better in hindsight, but just glancing at the front of the paper made him sigh again.

The world had changed dramatically as it modernized. New sciences and healthcare and cheap food fed into a booming population. Even countries like Italy and Japan that boasted one child families soon found themselves scrabbling for extra space and resources. As the populations expanded, it was clear that the citizens were stretching their nations to the breaking point. The nations were ill and unstable. War and famine were imminent. Diseases and malnutrition were already a problem. Ineffective population controls were in place, but the lack of cohesive laws worldwide made them impossible to track.

The world was in crisis.

And since it was impossible to control the people, a much more manageable goal was being sought.

Scientists in the top elite of the world frantically raced to find a solution. Dr. Bergen and his team were the first to propose a break through idea. Create a nation clone to help share the burden. The technology, however, wasn't perfect. Because nations were not humans, they could only speculate how successful the experiment would be on nations.

China, in agony from his overflowing population and polluted body, took the bold step to have it done first. It really wasn't an option. Something had to be done before he either was torn apart or incapacitated. Either way his people would suffer, and in turn the precarious balance of power would tip, striking up more conflict.

The results were better than expected. The clone was a perfectly function opposite half. The clone looked similar, acted similar, and believed similar. Automatically half the nation's citizenry – fifty-one percent actually – was assigned over to the new nation. The new China was a perfect compliment to the original China in every way except one.

A Y chromosome.

Somehow every clone was the opposite sex of the original nation.

The procedure was expensive and need based. It took years for some nations to get relief and assistance in managing their countries. In the meantime, vicious wars broke out over resources and the crowded conditions led to super viruses and the revival of several strains of the plague as well as influenzas. World hunger ended up at an all time high as the farmers were drafted or died or lost their land. For several decades it was torture.

Germany himself was a special exception.

He didn't have a clone of himself.

He certainly had the money to fund a clone early on, and he was definitely feeling the pressure, but he had support that few other nations could boast of. Loud, obnoxious, reckless, loyal support in the form of his older brother. Prussia defied all laws of existence. He lost his land, he lost his people, yet he soldiered on, lending his strength to Germany. Building him up and encouraging him when necessary. And Germany didn't know what he would do without his big brother.

It was a gut-wrenching time when he realized that Prussia was fading away. It wasn't immediately obvious, since it was a slow downhill slide. Prussia was a little quieter, maybe not eating as much, taking naps in the middle of the day. His skin grew paler, his frame wirier. But he hid it well, and by the time Germany questioned his infallible and unconquerable brother, it was almost too late.

He couldn't lose Gilbert.

So he made a deal with the scientists. It was unheard of and not done; however, it wasn't impossible.

He wasn't the only exception. Some nations were already stable due to the fact that there were already in a joint rule. The Italies were the best example. North and South had been ruling together forever, although at some point over the last few decades they split into two separate countries, and they still worked closely together to manage the territories. It was the same with the Koreas, who has never reunited, as well as several other split nations. These nations faired the best, while big nations like China, Russia, and America struggled. For a while the world was petrified that America was going to snap and nuke half the planet in his pain. He spent years sedated and incarcerated until a clone had been created for him.

His clone had acquired an unfortunate quirk. Instead of representing the female half of the population, she represented the Democratic party. Or the "demoncractic" party in the eyes of America because he represented the Republican party. As a result, the two argued and bickered constantly. It got to the point where they lived on opposite sides of the country and could barely stand to be in the same room for world meetings. In fact, the only reason they tolerated each other at all was neither could stand the thought of the other being at the meeting without them.

Things were just now starting to stabilize, and Germany could only hope that it would continue to wind down. Cloning had been banned, deemed 'unnecessary' and 'playing God.' The scientists were disbanded, the lab taken apart, and the documents burned. Germany highly doubted the secret of cloning was lost however, and he wondered just what else the scientists had done with the nation's DNA.

It was one of many worries he had about the future.

The blonde man jumped in surprise as the cellphone next to him went off. He eyed it warily for a moment, wondering who would be calling him so early in the morning. Early morning news was rarely good.

The phone abruptly stopped as he started reaching for it. A ding indicated he had received a text. He snatched up the phone and flipped it open. It was a text from France. Since the two counterparts tended to keeps the same moniker, it was difficult to tell who exactly sent it. It didn't matter; it would be the same regardless. France and France were practically conjoined twins about everything. France had even set aside his outside relationships and turned all his attentions inward.

'Check email.'

No frills and that scared Germany the most. France never sent anything less than a lengthy, frivolous introduction with the message tacked on the end as an afterthought. He reached for his laptop, pushed to the side of his breakfast. Prussia had insisted he stopped taking his work to the table. He humored her to stop the nagging and was surprised when his indigestion eased. It seemed Prussia had been right that his work was making him sick.

Hesitantly, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he flipped the top up and expertly put in the first password then the second and finally a third. If he didn't go to extreme measures he would find his hard drive loaded up with amateur porn and viruses. And while Prussia wasn't a computer expert, she found it funny to make sure the most disgusting video popped up the moment he logged on then played in an endless loop. The first time Prussia had done this he was presenting at the world meeting and had the desk top projecting on the wide screen at the front. It took months before he could look any of the other nations in the eye without one of the following happening: a lewd comment, laughter, or disgust. America somehow managed all three, the hypocrite.

He immediately spotted the email France wanted him to read. The pit in his stomach grew heavier and colder. Any mandate from the United Global Confederacy promised an unpleasant experience in the future. It was ultimately the UGC that had banned cloning and held sway over the governments of the world. It was far more powerful than the UN of old and its decrees were irrefutable law.

'Dear Nations of the World,

As you know, the population of the world has started to decrease. We find this an encouraging sign and hope implemented programs will keep the population sustainable in the future.'

Germany snorted. Of course the population was dwindling. War and disease had been nature's way of population control since the beginning of time. Trust this arrogant committee to take credit where no credit was due.

'However, the dwindling population creates a problem. There are now too many nation representatives to be supported without future issues.'

Here was the mandate coming down the sugar chute coated in oozing honey of apologies and excuses. Germany hovered over the delete button. He couldn't make himself press it though. Deleting the email wouldn't make the problem go away. In fact, it would get him in trouble for disobedience.

'In order to solve this problem, we have decreed that a tournament shall be held to solve the problem.

All nations with clones are required to meet at the following coordinates. Any that refuse to cooperate will face punishment for disobeying the law and have heavy sanctions imposed until cooperation is given.

You are allowed to bring one bag of supplies. Please pack appropriately for both of you. Do not bring suits; bring comfortable, durable clothing suitable for bad weather. If you decide to bring weapons, please contact us to check that it is allowable within the rules. Non-perishable food is recommended. Personal items are discouraged.

We look forward to seeing you to further clarify the situation and state the rules.'

Germany frowned, wondering just what that meant.

"Mornin' West."

Oh dear lord. Prussia's newest trick in the female body was to use her breasts as a weapon of assault. Her favorite move was to plop both of them directly on top of his head and press down, probably hoping to either muss his hair or suffocate him. Her long, white hair brushed against his nose and her slim arms wrapped around his neck, the nails brushing against his tank top in idle spirals.

"Gil, this is not a good time." Germany warned but not really meaning it. In truth he was happy she woke up and stumbled out to the kitchen. He could feel her chest expand as she breathed in for a big, sleepy yawn.

"Sure, sure, West. You always say that. I could be going down on you and if that little pager of yours beeped, you'd tell me to hold on, it's a bad time." Prussia chuckled as Germany turned red. He didn't argue the point though.

She slid down onto the flats of her bare feet so her chin rested lazily on his muscular shoulder, both arms draped down loosely over his chest now. She silently read the email then gave a mirthless chuckle, "Sounds like an order to deploy."

Germany frowned harder. It DID sound like they were getting orders to assemble to ship out. Germany wasn't sure how Prussia knew that, as she had never experienced wars first hand. On occasion Germany wondered if she was truly a clone or if she was something deeper than that. The thought was unsettling: how she seemed to remember things only Gilbert would know, how she fit right into his routine without any prompting, and how she slid into his bed like she owned it.

She was silent for another moment, "You think they'll take away my Makarov?"

"Perhaps you should call and ask." Germany rolled his eyes, "I am surprised you did not suggest any beer."

"The beer is going in your pack, big, strong, handsome man," she purred in his ear then bit down making him swat irritably at her, "And you damn well better not lose it. Besides, we both know I'm the better shot."

Ludwig had already tuned her out, considering the implications and how to pack 'appropriately.' Somehow he didn't think they were packing for a week long picnic.

A/N:

Test prologue to see if there is any interest in this story. Depending on how it's received, I may or may not continue. I don't normally hold fics hostage, but this fic is a bit more work and a bit less play, so I want to see how many people enjoy it before investing in it. The idea is far less humorous and far more serious than my usual style.

Inspired by "nyotalia" fanart that make me drool and the thought 'what if each country had two personifications but could only support ONE?' And a weird dream I had a few months ago about wars in the future.

The title is based on heliotopes also known as bloodstones or martyr's stones. They are green jade or quartz with blood red spots from oxidation. Heliotopes were thought to have been created by the blood of Christ, and before that, they were regarded by the Greeks as heralds of change. Bloodstones are believed to aid soldiers with courage, victory, and protection from injury. The next chapter will go into depth the significance of these stones for our beloved nations.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Martyr's Stone

Author: Eeevee

Rating: M

Warnings: Germancest (is this a warning or a bonus buy?), "Nyotalia", moral scientific issues, selfcest, and probably gore, guts, and language. Mild sex scenes and character death are inevitable. Unconventional pairings and strange premise. NO rape but may contain dubcon or intent to do bad things.

Disclaimer: Hetalia characters do not belong to me; this is written for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: Science created them, Society depended on them, Humanity needed them, and now Government has set out to eradicate them. In this future, the blood is in the stones. Dark fic.

Chapter One

The whole symposium was packed with worried, tense nations and their counter parts. Not all nations of the world had a clone of course. Some were too small, some were too poor and some were too religious. But the ones that did looked anxious and there was a loud buzz of not-quite whispered conversation that filled the air like agitated bees.

Germany and Prussia sat towards the front. Germany's punctual nature was only slowed down a little by Prussia's insistence that being late was fashionable for the awesome. Prussia was holding a loud, animated conversation with Spain's clone. The two women were smiling energetically, unconcerned about the atmosphere. Germany sat next to both Austrias (what a treat that was) and Hungarys. His pack sat innocently at his feet. It was an old survival pack he used when he spent the weekend out in the woods for training. It was durable, camouflaged, and had a lot of room to hold necessities. In his pocket was the twin to Prussia's own pistol as well as several excess rounds, water proof matches, and a swiss army knife.

He felt as paranoid as America during the Cold War, but the cold weight of the pistol made him feel more secure. Nations couldn't die of course, not from a gun, even if the bullet blew their brains out. It would hurt, it did hurt, Germany could testify to that, but it wasn't a fatal wound. Short of bombing a nation's capital, there was no true death for their kind. However, a bullet to the head would slow down even the most persistent attacker.

Prussia wandered back over, giving both Austrias a sour look, before sticking her hand in Germany's pocket.

"Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you excited to see me?"

"Sit. Down." Germany hissed, tense and uncomfortable. He had this urge to keep her where he could see her. Clone or not, this was Prussia, and Prussia was a genius for getting into trouble. Now was not the time to be causing trouble. He grabbed her arm and yanked her down a little harder than he intended. Her ruby eyes narrow and silver brows scrunched as she flopped down. Ashamed, he withdrew his hand, "Sorry."

"Relax, West. It's just going to be more stupid rules."

Somehow he didn't think so.

"Attention, excuse me, attention."

On the stage was a slight man nervously tapping the microphone. Germany recognized him immediately of course. Dr. Bergen. The man who was the genius behind the clones. He looked as nervous as Germany felt, his dark eyes flicking back and forth, no doubt regretting standing in front of dozens and dozens of countries who were now staring in dead silence. He cleared his throat, hunching his already stooped shoulders inward a little more.

"Has everyone signed in at the front?"

A murmur of agreement rose like a wave from the audience.

"And everyone is here?"

A few shouts from the crowd identified the countries that were missing. The doctor nodded his head at each name, assuring the audience that they were, in fact, accounted for by prior arrangement. Of course, in the middle of role class, the Americas banged in, arguing loudly about who made them late.

"Well, then that is everyone. Welcome and thank you for coming." Bergen fiddled with his tie, "There's no time to lose. As you know, the clones were created to help share a burden and keep the global health smooth. However… however…" The man swallowed hard, "It has been decided that clones are no longer necessary. So a competition has been… devised."

"West, is he crying? What a pussy."

Germany felt his insides knot up. What sort of competition was this that Bergen was crying? The tears trickled from the wrinkled corners of his eyes and there were hitches in his voice as he read off the script in front of him.

"As repentance for my sin, I am the host and coordinator of this… event… to correct my mistakes." There was pleading and apology in his eyes. Germany shifted uneasily, suddenly wanting to jump to his feet and leave. He had seen that look before so many times from crushed men, hunted men, _cornered_ men. Dangerous men.

A stir went through the crowd, England's voice rising above the din, "Well spit it out man!"

Bergen nodded and straightened his spine slightly, "It has been… decreed… that it is inhumane to outright… kill the clones, as they are sentient beings. The greatest minds came together to solve this problem with feats of engineering and… and progress." It was clear the man thought it was anything but. "The result is what I will introduce to you today."

He pressed a button and the lights dimmed. Germany's pale eyes flicked towards the vents. He knew it was useless, as gas wasn't visible to the naked eye, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the humans had some sort of leveling weapon to use against them. Since there were too many nations to shoot one by one, gas was a good solution to kill many in a cramped room… Germany knew how effective it was first hand.

"In the past, wars were fought on horseback with crude clubs and spears. As it sophisticated, so did the weapons, but men still died, women were still raped, and land was still burned. This trend has continued… until now. Our scientists have created an artificial arena to contain combatants. Each country present has two combatants to represent their country. By the end of this competition there will be one, maybe none. It is the ultimate… survival of the fittest. Only the greatest will be left to rule."

The silence was suffocating.

"So… you want us to fight and kill each other?"

"Preposterous! Nations can't die!"

"This is supposed to be better? This is cruel and sick!"

Bergen went on dully, ignoring their outraged cried, "Please wait to ask questions until the end. All your concerns will be addressed."

"Guess it was a good idea to bring the guns." Prussia whispered loudly to Germany and the male Austria's eyes flicked towards them nervously.

"First, let me explain the objective and then the rules. The objective of this competition is to give each country a competent representative. One representative per country is allowed. Only one. First rule: Every survivor must have a country to claim, and if both representatives are alive at the end of the time limit, both will be executed as neither are fit to fill the spot. Second rule: if both representatives are killed, countries within geological range may fill the vacant spot, allowing both the original and the clone to survive without penalty. This is only applicable to countries that are geographically similar. For example, China and Cuba are not compatible to allow this rule to take effect. Third rule: all participation must take place within the regulated time limit. You will be given a special watch that will keep your schedule for you. If you break the regulated schedule or time limit, sanctions will be given.

You will be given basic provisions in addition to the packs you have brought. As original and clone, you must decide how to split the packs. We will not moderate this for you. Please insure all weapons are approved. If contraband is discovered by officials, sanctions will be given.

I will now take specific questions."

Several hands shot up at once and Bergen gave China the floor first. The Asian and his clone both stood up, twin looks of indignation on their faces, although it was the clone who spoke, "How do you propose we will kill each other?"

"Clarify... please."

"You are not to touch Beijing, aru!" China shouted angrily with his arms flailing. He smacked Japan in the face, who edged backward holding his nose. "I won't let you harm my people and bomb my capital! Is it not bad enough they are starving and ill?"

"We will not harm the citizens of any country. My team has devised a way to remove a nation's immortality without hurting the country itself."

Another shout of rage rose from the crowd.

Denmark jumped up, "And just how did you assholes accomplish that?"

Bergen gave a small smile, the first one since he took the stage. It was the look of a proud professional. He quickly wiped it off his face and replied mournfully, "Using your DNA of course. Every living being as a weakness. And before I hear the next question, please keep in mind the contract every one of you signed before receiving your clones! The DNA legally became property of my company the moment it left your body!"

Germany put his hand up but Bergen called on Japan next. Japan's clone declined to stand up, remaining politely quiet.

"Ano, could you please further explain our weakness? I am afraid I do not understand."

Bergen glanced to the side towards backstage and paled slightly. He shook his head quickly and said they had to move on. He would answer any other questions at the end. He went on to explain about the arena and where survival stations had been set up. Each nation was equipped with a watch that held maps, schedules, statistics, a GPS and curiously enough, radar.

"Spiffy," Prussia chirped.

After another half hour of mind numbing instructions, Bergen swallowed a glass of water and added, "There is one final offer. If, by chance, between the two of you, you can come to a consensus of a sacrifice, the remaining nation will be offered freedom without participating. I will give you ten minutes to discuss this option."

Germany's fists were clenched so tightly he wondered how the plastic arms of the chair beneath him was still whole. His jaw was clenched just as tightly and he could barely breathe. Didn't they know what they asked of him? His life or the life of his other half? His precious remainder of his beloved big brother, his lighter half, and his emotional support? To just… sacrifice Prussia like an unruly bull to the cruel gods above… it was unfathomable. He wouldn't stand for it. Prussia's red eyes were searching his face. He could hear the two Austrias and two Hungarys hissing among themselves, angry and low.

"West, don't even think it. Don't you even _think_ about volunteering. Don't give into their sick game. We can beat this, right? I mean, you were taught by the very best. They said we can conquer other countries! Don't you get it? All we have to do is stick together and let the others fall!"

Germany let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Prussia was right. He had confidence in his abilities to survive this. But it wouldn't come without a price. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his neighbors; nations he had known for entire existence. Nations he had fought with, nations he had allied with, nations he had a rich tapestry of history with. Could he give them all up for a clone?

He shook his head angrily. Prussia was _not _merely a clone. Prussia was the reincarnation of his brother, his _kin_. What wouldn't he do for Prussia was the real question?

"Gillian, it's not that simple." Germany tried, her human name slipping from his tongue in his panic. His mind raced. This sort of "competition" was ripe for revenge, and Germany _and_ Prussia both had made a lot of enemies over the centuries. Countries improved relations but invasions, beatings, and rapes were hard to forget. His eyes flicked over to Russia, who was seated with the other Slavic nations. A small, happy smile was on his face, but Germany was certain he had instantly come to the same conclusion. Russia had too many strong enemies not to have. So why was he so calm? What was he plotting?

The big nation looked their way, his violet eyes twinkling, and he smile widened at the sight of Prussia. He gave a tiny wave with his fingers and laughed. Prussia bristled and Germany frowned.

"That fucker. He's plotting something."

A clear bell rang across the loud hall and everyone looked to the front.

Prussia reached over and grabbed Germany's hand tightly, "Don't leave me again Luddy."

Germany wanted to shout that Prussia had been the one who was always leaving, but Bergen was speaking again. Instead, he gripped the hand tightly, afraid to let go. He was calling for volunteers.

America jumped up, his glasses askew and his finger pointed at his clone menacingly, "Take her! I'll _pay_ you to take her!"

Within seconds his clone shot up. Female America was just as well built as her counterpart; her tracts of land were enviable to most women and her wild blonde hair was tucked back with a flag bandana. She didn't have the original's glasses. Instead, she wore several piercings up the lobes of her ears and a stud in the corner of her nose. She was dressed like she had stumbled in from southern California, a wrap around tank top, flip flops, and short jean shorts. Sunglasses were perched on her head.

"I knew it! You want a monopoly on the country!" she spat back at him, "Democracy is dead, and its killer is big business!"

The two were inches apart, glaring with arms over their chests.

"Any _willing_ volunteers?" Bergen repeated, sounding like he hoped there wouldn't be. The two Americas sat down facing away from each other in a huff. "No volunteers?"

"Pah, what kind of dumbass would get himself killed for someone else?" Prussia muttered. Germany hoped she didn't mean it, but she probably did. It was in her nature, and he would have to be careful how far to trust her. Prussia wouldn't harm him on purpose, he didn't think, but Prussia tended to act rashly. And Prussia always regretted it later.

Another man crept on the stage and whispered in Bergen's ear. The scientist's mouth opened in an 'o' then snapped shut. The remaining color drained out of his face turning it a sickly gray.

"Um, we have our volunteer. Please step out on the stage."

Turkey and his clone step hesitantly onto the stage. It's clear that neither one are thrilled with volunteering for an unknown procedure. His clone trails a step behind, head bowed and hands clasped in the front. Germany didn't know how Turkey could even afford a clone; his economy had been failing for the longest time.

"Debt collection." Russia says from a few rows back making everyone turned towards him. Except it isn't Russia who said it, but his clone. Russia's clone made Germany just as nervous as the original. She was large and strong but didn't seem to have the instability of her counterpart. She was still very cunning and analytical about everything. Once she claimed she wore pink because people perceived her to be soft and pliable when she did. Germany wondered how that worked out when she showed them the other side of her cold personality.

"Pardon?" Austria asked what they were all thinking.

"If you don't pay back your debts, they will be collected with blood, da?" she clarifies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a satisfied look, "They're running a business after all."

"Oh God." Austria moaned after his mind put it together.

"—this holds the key to your immortality. It is your life. If you lose or crush this crystal, then you are opening yourself up to mortality." Bergen said into the microphone. A chain dangled from his fingers. On the end was a small, green stone. The stone wasn't large, maybe the slightly larger than a thumbnail. It shone dully under the strong light and had flecks of red spotting the surface.

Bergen handed the stone to Turkey. The Turk almost dropped it, acting like it scalded his palm. He held the chain away from him in two pinched fingers. Bergen stepped away from the microphone and spoke to him. Turkey scowled and clenched the chain suddenly between his fingers. For a moment he looked like he was going to throw the crystal away. Instead, with one smooth motion, he flipped the crystal into his palm. The audience held their breath.

How fragile was the stone? Could it be broken between two fingers or did it require a hammer to crush? What would happen when it was broken? Would the clone vaporize? Crumple to the ground like she suffered from a shot to the head?

Bergen said something to Turkey and his clone winced, hunching down in one spot in anticipation. Germany wanted to turn his head. He shouldn't be watching this; he should say something; he should stop this. But he was frozen in place, watching the deadly drama just yards away. Guilt welled up in him but the hand clenching his anchored him in place. The sense of déjà vu was suffocating and terrifying.

Violently, Turkey threw the stone to the ground and crushed it mercilessly under his heel. The vicious thump and grinding sound echoed out across the auditorium. Turkey's clone screamed in terror and crumpled to the ground. Several other screams from the audience echoed it. And screams from the ghosts in Germany's past ricocheted in his skull, making him clutch it with his free hand. His eyes were clenched tight in denial.

A surprised noise rose from the onlookers and Germany slowly opened his eye. Turkey looked stunned and relieved; he was shakily helping his clone to her feet. She stumbled forward and pushed him away angrily. She hissed something and he retorted, putting out his hand again. She took it this time and lurched into his side. He righted her briskly, a look of marvel on his face that she was still breathing, still living.

"It's just a bad joke." Hungary muttered from the side. Her fist was clenched across her chest protectively and she looked to her other half. Male Hungary looked equally upset, although his fist appeared to be cocked back to punch someone. "Yes," he agreed, "A terrible, sick joke."

A flicker of red light caught Germany's eyes. Instinctively, he whipped his head around, following the trail of the laser. The dot waivered gently before setting dead center. There was no sound; the gun must have had a silencer. Once again, the clone crumpled, blood splattering Turkey and Bergen.

Gagging sounds filled the air and Germany felt his stomach clench in sympathy at the noise. His stomach was so far up his throat, he didn't think he could vomit if he tried.

"Fuck." Prussia breathed with a small whistle of admiration, "Clean shot right through the head. These guys are pros, West."

"She _died_!"

"Well, yes, that's what those stones do, right?" Prussia responded curiously. She gave a glance towards where the sniper had been hidden, "This was planned brilliantly."

"Doesn't that scare you?" Germany practically shouted, "They can kill you! She was a clone, and she died because a stupid stone was pulverized!"

Prussia opened her mouth to respond when another scream cut through the air. This scream was different. It was pure agony. The sort of scream that forced its way out of someone being flayed alive or someone who's skin was being melted off with acid. If you combined the two with someone being torn in two by a team of stampeding horses, it might be close to the ungodly sound ringing from Turkey's throat.

The country was on the ground, seizing and screaming wildly. In his spasms he pitched the clone's limp body off the stage and onto the front row. Nations and clones scrambled out of the way, wiping off warm blood speckles and climbing over seats.

Abruptly Turkey stopped convulsing. Chest heaving, he rolled out of the puddle of blood, vomit and urine that collected below him. He blinked a few times in confusion. It was painful to watch him slowly climb to his feet, as wobbly as a toddler who had taken a tumble. His dark eyes swept around, vague and cautious, but not like someone who had just been through life-changing trauma. When they landed on the crumpled body in the front row, he seemed like someone who couldn't quite remember something important. Like he had accidentally forgotten to lock the door to his house and came home to a burglary.

Bergen wiped his mouth and asked weakly, "And other questions?"

A/N:

I see this kind of review coming: "Ur story is liek the Hunger Games!" So I'm going to acknowledge that I have read the series (liked it okay but don't see what all the fuss is about), and I may steal a few ideas from it. That's the purpose of a writer reading after all ^_^ However, the main idea behind this is based on a dream I had before I read the books (creepy).

Also, I apologize if the build is a little slow. There's a lot of background to cover. Please let me know if there's any confusion!


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Martyr's Stone

Author: Eeevee

Rating: M

Warnings: Germancest (is this a warning or a bonus buy?), "Nyotalia", moral scientific issues, selfcest, and probably gore, guts, and language. Mild sex scenes and character death are inevitable. Unconventional pairings and strange premise. NO rape but may contain dubcon or intent to do bad things.

Disclaimer: Hetalia characters do not belong to me; this is written for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: Science created them, Society depended on them, Humanity needed them, and now Government has set out to eradicate them. In this future, the blood is in the stones.

Chapter Three

Germany stared at the small, unexceptional stone cradled in his large palm. It was slightly larger than his thumbnail and polished into an egg-shaped oval. The top had been bored into and a small metal hook with an eye was inserted so a chain could be attached. It seemed a fragile way to carry something so precious. The stone was an ordinary green, certainly nothing so lustrous as jade or an emerald, and the rust-colored flecks looked like blood. He supposed that's how they earned the nickname 'blood stone.'

Except all he could think of was the blood of Turkey's clone dripping and splattering all over the front row audience. It looked like the stone itself has been in the cross-fire and was now a permanent reminder of pending destruction. Suddenly Germany pitched forward slightly and gagged into his hand, his blue eyes shut tightly trying to protect himself from his imagination. Of course, it wasn't effective; it hadn't been ever before and it certainly wasn't now. He couldn't imagine a world of peace and freedom, only death and gore and enslavement. This stone was a delicate, pretty shackle. He had no doubt that the UGF had doubled of every stone to ensure the nations' utter cooperation in their sick little tournament.

What exactly did they want? Were they truly impartial and willing to leave it up to luck and skill whether the nation or the clone won the right to exist? Most nations and their clones were nearly indistinguishable at first glance, but Germany knew that was only on the surface. They each represented different parts of their country; different populations, different traditions, different politics. America may have been the most extremely example, as America always seemed to be, but America certainly wasn't the only one swayed by opposing factions or secret desires. Would the winner be changed when they absorbed the population of the loser, or would the winner remain the same, only representing the interests of their constituents? Which might just happen to be in line with the UGF's model of good behavior? A paranoid shudder ran through Germany and he clutched the stone tightly.

"Hey, are you thinking conspiracy thoughts again? Because I've told you that's stupid. Even if there is a plot, you've got to be better than your enemies. Be smarter, crueler and stronger, ja?"

Germany slowly opened his eyes. Prussia was dressed in military fatigues. Clearly they had belonged to the original Prussia because they were too tight around the chest and too baggy everywhere else. She had a pistol tucked tightly in a very visible holster around her waist and her long, silver hair was tucked deftly beneath a dark hat. Black leather gloves, the thick kind for work not for fashion, and black leather boots covered her hands and feet. He was certain there was at least one knife on her person, probably tucked in a boot, and if Russia thought pink made her look softer, clearly Prussia was taking the opposite tact with aggression and threats

"Here," Prussia deftly snatched the stone from his fist and drew out the iron cross from beneath his shirt. She threaded the stone firmly behind the cross so that it was covered by the flesh-warmed metal. She gave it a slight twirl, adjusted it so it wouldn't move, and quickly tucked it back in his shirt. The stone was chilled against his skin, ominous. The whole process took less than a minute with Prussia leaning over him the whole time, her baggy fatigues and body shielding her fingers from prying eyes. He half expected a kiss—after all, how many times had he scolded Prussia, both Prussias, for displays of public indecency? – and was mildly disappointed when she brushed her hand over his forehead and ruffled his hair, "Stay sharp Luddy. The games may not have officially started, but we're playing with high stakes and cheaters."

Germany's eyes tracked over her shoulder to see Russia's clone watching them with a lazy, charming smile. There wasn't much child-like about the smirk she sported. Germany noticed Russia was nowhere to be seen. Did they have a falling out already? It was very unlike Russia to tolerate sharing. Perhaps he had reveled in this sanctioned disposal of his clone.

Even though it had been less than an hour since their shocking assembly, several nations and clones had already fragmented. There was a disturbing trend of deadly alliances already being formed, he was sure.

"Germany-san."

Germany jumped and grabbed his pistol before realizing it was only Japan at his elbow. The dark haired nation was giving him a long, solid, considering look. Both nations had prospered for decades since their last alliance. Both had wrestled economic victory from ruinous defeat. Over time, they had drifted from each other, but Germany saw concern in his old friend's eyes.

"Japan."

"This is quite a predicament."

Germany grunted in agreement and marginally relaxed his grip on the pistol butt. He silently slid it back into the case but didn't completely let go.

"I- I don't trust my clone, Germany-san." Japan said in a hushed whisper. His black eyes flashed with keen intelligence and Germany was reminded why they became allies so long ago. They both had a desire for control, betterment, and the resolve to follow through with any ambition that was presented. Time hadn't dulled or quenched that desire, merely pushed it down into submission. "But… I suspect she will be the smallest of my opponents."

China. Russia. Possibly America as well. It was always hard to predict which way America would jump when presented with an opportunity. Germany wouldn't envy Japan's position, except his own was just as dire. France (s), Russia, Poland… those were the biggest threats but certainly not an extensive list of nations with past grievances. France, geographically, was the most alarming. France may have forgiven his crimes, but that did not change the fact they were close neighbors, and Germany would be ideal for a take-over.

"Are you proposing an alliance?" Germany replied in a low voice and relaxed his shoulders, removing his fingers from the gun finally. He could feel the impressions the metal left in his skin from the pressure. Japan gave a small smile and deep bow, a strange echo of the past, "For old time's sake."

Prussia, who had been silent during their exchange, was checking her pack to the side. Uncharacteristically, she didn't even say anything to fill the long pause as Germany considered. Three people, if all were trustworthy, was superior to two. And Japan had nothing to gain by removing either Germany or Prussia from the competition, yet much to gain by having an alliance with them. Those were all sound reasons, but it was the bow and wave of nostalgia that accompanied it that decided Germany.

He gave a curt nod, more of a sharp incline of his head, and Japan's eyes flashed in return. Japan sidled backwards towards his belongings.

"You have dangerous tastes in friends, West." Prussia commented, twisting her own stone behind her iron cross far more clumsily than she had his. He stepped forward to help her with it and she brushed him off. He felt the eyes behind him and wished she wasn't being so careless. Maybe Japan had upset her.

"It's safer," he replied firmly and she replied flippantly, "I wonder."

His retort was cut off by the PA system calling them to order. Once a hush blanketed the room, they were instructed to check their watches for the coordinates they were to report to. To Germany's uneasy, he and Prussia had different check points. It made sense of course. You shouldn't be loosed WITH your target. Then it would come down to who was the fastest or strongest, and the result would be NO one to take over representing the country. They would all be dead. Nations were made up of the best their country had to offer and the collective will of all their citizens' survival instincts. No, the fact that the UGF asked for volunteers earlier was either a laughable farce or a miscalculation. Not a single being entering this competition was simply going to lay down and die.

"See ya on the other side West."

Germany lingered to watch until Prussia disappeared around the corner.

"Very confident, isn't she?" Austria, the original Austria, commented dryly. His face was pinched with stress and displeasure. He was standing awkwardly halfway facing Germany and halfway facing the open corridor that led to the slaughter field. Germany couldn't think of it as an arena; arenas were for sports and games, not bloodbaths. "Considering her… _lack_ of experience."

Germany's gaze turned a little colder. Austria better simply be making a passive-aggressive comment as he usually did and not a calculated, hostile snipe. His throat bobbed nervously, and he adjusted his glasses with a single finger, sliding them up his nose to a more stable perch, "You should take care of her."

Germany felt like he'd been punched. Of course he knew Prussia and Austria's mutual dislike was merely a cover up for some sort of strange affection only they understood, but since Prussia had been replaced – Germany shook himself, not _replaced_… _redeemed_ – they rarely spoke and never taunted. It never occurred to Germany Prussia might be dear to someone else other than him. He wondered if Hungary still felt the same way or if she wouldn't hesitate to take a bead at a nearby territory… He groaned. The what-ifs were overwhelming!

"Of course I will." Everything was so awkward between them. This may be the last conversation they ever have and even it was stiff, dispassionate. Like they were simply speaking over their books, discussing the merits of each method outlined to relate better to others. "What about you? Do you have a plan?"

Austria gave a snort of disgust, "I was hardly expecting _this_. If I had realized it would be war, I would've changed my attire." Germany had no doubt; Austria would have removed his silk tie at least. "Those unrefined cretins did not even allow me time to return home from my concert."

That explained the suit. It seems stuffy even for Austria when they had been instructed to dress casually. Austria shifted his pack uncomfortably and it occurred to Germany that he probably did not even have a weapon to defend himself with. The packs contained survival gear from the elements but nothing that could be used against another person aside from a swiss army pocket knife. Not only that but he had to split it with his clone. Being Austria, they probably split it evenly down to the last crumb of food.

Wordlessly Germany took the smaller pistol he had hidden in his clothing and handed it over. Just as wordlessly, Austria accepted it with grateful dignity. He briefly checked it over before tucking it in his suit pocket where it would be easy to access. Not the least conspicuous placement, but who would expect a man dressed in a ruffled silk tie to carry a dirty old gun in his pocket?

"I can't be your ally; it's too risky for her."

"Agreed. We would not make good allies this time."

"Stay away from Russia."

"Likewise."

"Good luck."

"To you as well. Regardless, if I die, there should still be an Austria. If there is no Austria, then my death will have been in vain."

Germany gave a mirthless laugh and promised, "There will be an Austria."

At that point Austria turned down the corridor to the right. There was a soft, cool breeze drifting from further down. It should have been refreshing. Germany checked his watch and turned towards the left. All of this time, effort and money to solve a problem created by time, effort and money. Crisis perpetuating a crisis.

He stood along, heedless of the noise his boots made. It felt good to stomp along, even if it was just for the moment. Each jarring step firmed his resolve. It was time to put past affections and ties into a locked box. If he survived, he would tend those ignored relationships a little more gently and persistently than before.

By the time he stepped up to the open door, he had a vague notion of a plan. He had seen Prussia coordinates of course, peeking over her shoulder. The instructions had told the contestants to avoid looking at watches other than their own; in fact, it had suggested that only the owner could read the contents. Yet Germany had easily been able to read the small, green florescent numbers that shimmered from the watch face. That had been easy enough, but Prussia would hardly sit still and wait for him to show up. He would have to get there and track her movements. Difficult but he thought he could do it. He had looked at the map of the area after discovering the app on his watch, but without any legend that dictated scale it was too hard to guess the size of the area. What he did know what his start point was directly adjacent to hers. He suspected all the pairs were set up this way to ensure they didn't run into each other immediately.

Those bastards want a show, Germany thought grimly. They want us to get comfortable, relaxed, before orchestrating meetings. He pressed the flat of his palm against his chest. His fingers rested over his steady, collected heartbeat and his thumb pressed against the iron cross. The stone behind it ground into the base of his throat just above his collar bone. It took a moment to realize Prussia had adjusted the chain so the charm hung at the hollow of his throat instead of the center of his chest. Anyone who knew about his iron cross, and most of the European nations did as well as Japan and America, knew it hung in the center of his chest.

The center.

That's where everyone would meet. The nations and clones would figure out what he had, if they hadn't already, about the logical distance of deployment. The more direct ones, like America, would head straight for the center to duke it out.

He checked his schedule. No one was to actually leave the building before being given the green light. His watch numbers counted down steadily. He had a little less than seven minutes to ready himself and choose the best route to avoid any potential conflict. He took a deep breath and forced himself to check the map once again. Then he spent the rest of the time staring at the apps.

There was the watch, of course. The counter was shown as an hourglass with trickling sand. Germany did not appreciate their sense of humor. Beneath it was the numerical time. Beneath that was the ticker for when the end time was. It hadn't moved yet. In addition there was a standard compass, a stop watch, a humidity gauge, a flashlight app and other meter that showed full but had no label. He tried the radar app and was surprised when it showed him the outlines of the surrounding areas. It didn't have great range but he could see it being very useful for navigating and scouting.

He glanced at the time and readied his pack. He would have to move quickly to get to the other side of the map.

The watch made a quick, quiet beep alerting him to the time. He covered it instinctively, although the sound was already muted from earlier when he turned the volume down as low as possible. Unfortunately for whoever was nearest to him, they hadn't been so prudent. He clearly heard the beep from his left. It wasn't close but it was too close. Germany wasn't expecting anyone to be so close. That must mean the arena wasn't that big after all.

He drew his remaining gun and stalked forward. He had a vague sense of unease that it might be a trap. After all, it wasn't like Italy was here, for which Germany was profoundly grateful that his peaceful friend wasn't forced into this deathtrap, and who else would be foolish enough to be so noisy?

"Goddammit!"

Germany sighed. Wonderful. If it had been one of the weaker European nations, he could've snuck around them. Trust his luck to be released next to the former superpower. The little-less-moron, little-too-much-power America. The original version at that.

"Fucking goddammit! Motherfucking goddammit! Pardon me God, for taking your name in vain. Although I think this is a pretty good time to use it and not in vain at all." America shouted and there was a solid thump as he hit a tree. "There. I feel better."

Germany ducked back as he heard America approaching.

"Hey, Germany, where are you? I know you're there. I checked my radar you know."

What the—Germany pinged his radar. Sure enough, this time when the map showed up, America's flag showed up uncomfortably close. Trust America to figure this feature out almost immediately. Then again, perhaps it was an American company that made the technology in the first place.

"C'mon, I'm not going to hurt you. What reason do I have? I'm not a blood thirsty monster. I just want to see a friendly face and know I'm not alone. Is that too much to ask?" America cajoled cheerily. Germany peered around warily feeling exposed and America warned with a loud laugh, "Don't think you can hide. I know all the tricks to these little toys. I'd hate to have to hurt you. Did you know these watches have a tazer built in? Pretty neat, huh."

Germany felt his insides freeze. The hair on the back of his neck was prickling. America did not have the sanest history. Not quite like Russia's, but the past few decades had nearly pushed him to the breaking point. Massacres, rebellions, riots… dis-unification of the people. That had to have been the hardest. Americans simply stopped believing in America; they wanted to be something else. Something that wasn't so… shameful. They all believed it was the _other _Americans tarnishing the country. The proud melting pot, which hadn't been very stable to begin with, had turned into a liability, a disgrace. It had literally been tearing America apart. No wonder his clone had to take one of the polar opposites; it prevented him from being bisected down the middle.

America's voice dropped, "Seriously, I'm not here to play hide and seek. Come out so we can talk. Five. Four. Three. Two." There was a long pause where America clearly expected Germany to obey then a hiss when he didn't. "One. Fine, be that way."

Even though America had warned him, Germany was not quite ready for the attack. The crack of electricity was the only warning he got. He dove into a roll and hit a tree truck hard enough to bruise his ribs. Ignoring his protesting lungs and ribcage, he pushed off with his legs to roll into a ready crouch. His gun would be useless in such close combat. His eyes widened as he saw the second attack coming. Just as America had said, the watch was generating the electricity. America was using the watch like a pair of brass knuckles and punching towards Germany's shoulder. It was much too strong for a human to handle, either wielding or being struck by, but it wouldn't kill a nation. Depending how hard he was struck, it might not even do enough to paralyze Germany. Still, he ducked back, feeling the ground scrape up his hands and another tree truck hit his spine. America's blow struck the tree above Germany's head and the wood split and groaned under the assault. The watch was unscathed and crackled dangerously. The crack traveled up toward the lower branches and they showered down on the pair.

Germany blindly grabbed one and took a badly aimed swing. He had been hoping to convince America to back off a little; he grunted when the branch hit flesh and the vibrations tore into his wrists.

"Son of a bitch, that hurt!" America laughed and sat down calmly turning off the watch with a poke of his finger, "Good thing you didn't hit Texas though."

Germany stared at him, chest heaving and branch clutched in preparation.

"Seriously now, put that down. Didn't I say I wasn't going to hurt you?" America gave a charming smile complete with guileless baby blue eyes. Germany sought any trace of madness. If it was there, it was well hidden under embarrassed humor and slight pain. Germany's blow must have struck someplace vital to make him hurt enough to show it. Unless he was purposeless showing it to knock Germany off guard.

"You tried to decapitate me." Germany accused, hand inching towards the knife in his boot. What he really wanted was a metal bar to beat America's foolish head in.

"Nah, if I did that, you wouldn't have a head. I would've had Canada blow it off from up in the trees. Besides, you need your head. In fact, I need your head too. On your body." America shrugged and Germany's eyes jerked upward seeking this mystery nation America had just referred to. He couldn't see anything but green. If another nation was hiding up there, then they were well hidden.

Reluctantly Germany withdrew his hands and placed both palms flat and in the open. America nodded, pleased, "That's more like it. We're not the enemies here. And I think you could use me as much as I could use you."

Germany stayed silent.

"You see, Canada and I have a problem. Well, mostly him, because I'm too smart to let my other half do stupid shit like try to kill me. You see, his clone has actually tried to assassinate him before this whole mess even started. She wasn't really that successful, but she imprisoned him and took away his support. She has this stupid idea that the only way to merge back together is some weirdass voodoo shit, and when Canada refused…" America paused to grit his teeth, "It wasn't pretty. If he's Mister Good Two Shoes, then she's the Wicked Witch of the North, you follow?" Germany was certain there was no Wicked Witch of the North but he sometimes confused his American pop culture.

America paused, cocking his head as if listening to someone behind him. He growled and continued, "Anyway, she is totally not compatible with my style of doing things. I don't want to deal with the shit having her as a neighbor will bring. If she'll attack Canada there's no guarantee she won't try to hurt or kill me as well. Or anyone for that matter. And I think the UGF is backing her. It's pre-emptive self-defense, right? Get them before they get you."

Germany nodded slowly. He hadn't considered what would happen if one of the clones won. They hid so often in their counterparts' shadows… who could tell what kind of evils they harbored? What he didn't understand was why America wasn't concerned about his own clone. Shouldn't that be who he focused on?

"What do you want from me?"

America blinked as if Germany asked a very obvious question, "Blow her brains out. Crush the stone and eliminate her."

"…Who is she again?"

America knocked his forehead into his knees and groaned dramatically. He shouted, "See Canada! I told you, no one can even see you! Why don't you show Germany?" He listened again before saying, "I know you're worried, just do it. He's not going to shoot you. Shock value, you know. He'll believe me if he sees what she did to you."

Germany had inched to his feet while America was arguing with his invisible companion. Clearly the other nation was raving mad, shouting to the air like that. He didn't have time to go on wild goose chasing, tracking down imaginary clones.

Unfortunately, the only way to get back on track to where Prussia was involved walking towards America. Germany stiffened his shoulders and drew his pistol. America took no notice, clearly unconcerned that Germany was armed or striding forward. At this point he was waving his arms around in frustration.

He had just passed America, who had fallen silent and was watching him expectantly. A shiver went through him; he liked it better when America was behaving like a lunatic. The quiet watchfulness was eerie. Germany felt like it was a trap.

He was so focused on America, waiting for the stronger nation to try to taze him again, that he actually shouted when he saw the ghost. It eyed him forlornly, gaunt and sallow. Before a cure for cancer had been found, Germany's scientists had been on the fore-front of experimental treatments. This ghost looked like a poor soul who had endured too many rounds of poisonous chemotheraphy and was on the cusp of organ failure. The eyes were sunk back into the skull while the white skin was pinch and lifeless, devoid of color-giving blood and temperature. The ghost had no hair to speak of, not even stubble or eyebrows, and the bloodless lips were clamped shut covering whatever horrors had been inflicted on the teeth and tongue – if the ghost still even had a tongue. There were signs of healed torture crossing the thin, waif-like body. Only the clean clothing pressed around the spindly body looked normal. Germany recognized America's trademark bomber jacket wrapped tightly across the shoulders with the white arms cross across the chest to latch on to either side of the jacket zipper. The jeans were too baggy and held up with a cord. There was no shirt beneath the jacket just more mutilated flesh. Embedded in plain sight was a small, green stone. It was actually pressed down into the skin where the belly button should have been.

It was a glittering target for all to see.

America's eyes were narrowed and his lip was curled in a silent rage. The ghost saw this and shrank back slightly before turning to Germany. Germany made himself look, trying to remember which nation this had been. If he couldn't remember the name before the shade in front of him was an even greater challenge.

He still couldn't remember the name but when he imagined the whole, healthy country, the shy boy his brother had once befriend, he stifled a gasp. How could someone hurt a country so badly? It shouldn't have even been possible.

"Drugs, propaganda, starvation and isolation." America snarled, "Shame, slander, torture. You name it, she tried it. She even put the cherry on top by removing his ability to protect his mortality."

One of the rules was that the stone must never be separated from its owner. The UGF was quite clear that if the stone left possession of its owner, it would self-destruct within a specific time limit. It was probably one of the number sets on the watch that would start ticking down immediately once activated. Still, no one would _willingly_ choose to blatantly wear their stone like a grotesque piercing tempting even the most peaceful nation.

The ghost couldn't take Germany's stare any longer and hunched over with the jacket protecting his back and covering his stomach. America stood aggressively over him with his hands clenched.

"You have a brother too."

Germany didn't correct America about the past tense. Prussia was Prussia. Brother or sister, the title held little meaning. Germany knew what America was asking in his obvious statement.

"What do I get in return?"

America grinned and relaxed a little. The ghost straightened up, standing unobtrusively behind his brasher companion. He didn't look particularly please at Germany's implicit agreement. Germany was torn between wanting to speak with him alone and continuing to find Prussia. He could practically visualize the grains of sand slipping down the slick, holographic sides of the watch hourglass.

"I tell you all about these handy little toys we've got."

Germany considered. They had a week in this hell. A week's worth of survival. Understanding all the tools available would be a big asset. There were several apps that he could only guess at what they did and a handful more that seemed completely alien. It might be worth the time taken to make a compromise with America and the ghost.

"May I speak to you privately?" Germany asked the ghost gently. America tensed slightly and opened his mouth to protest. The ghost put a bony hand over his mouth and shook his head mutely. America scowled and stomped off into the woods. Germany could tell he hadn't gone far but pinged the radar just in case. It showed America back where Germany had dropped his pack towards the entrance.

"You're Gilbert's brother." The ghost said. He didn't seem to be missing any teeth or his tongue but his gums were an unhealthy blue color. "I heard he died just before... well, before I didn't get anymore news of the outside. I'm sorry; he was a great nation."

How long had this man been imprisoned?

Germany shifted uncomfortably, "Prussia still exists… as my clone."

He could see the ghost mull that over before giving a pained smile, "I'm not sure if that is happy news or not. Is she… like him… or…?"

"She's a maniac and selfish and brash and reckless." Germany said stoically, "She's also cunning and loyal and fearless."

The ghost chuckled softy before coughing weakly and sinking down to sit, "Sounds like Gilbert. Listen, don't let Alfred, um, America bully you. My clone… she's dangerous… and she has power and influence. I'm sure she was given… special gifts in her pack. And I don't think she's the only one. I think that… our clones were made to… replace us."

Now who was thinking conspiracies? Yet the ghost had been the first victim, and that was hard to ignore.

Germany considered if he had looked in the pack before Prussia split the contents. Not really. He had glanced at the top and looked at her while she packed it but then Japan had distracted him. He shook the thought. Even if there had been something else in there, some special weapon, Prussia wouldn't use it _on_ him. The notion was impossible to comprehend.

The ghost cough again, this time strong enough to double over, then wiped the blood from his mouth. He spat in disgust and wiped his mouth again, careful not to drag the leather sleeve through the frothy mixture. Germany found the motion odd considering how much gore the jacket must have seen on America's person.

Germany sank down to eye level with the ghost, "Listen…"

"Matthew…"

"Listen, Matthew, I promise to help America as best I can to avenge you. This is not right, none of this is right. It's unjust and disgusting that humans believe we are toys to be controlled and discarded. They don't hold all the cards. But I must find Prussia; I must protect her and know she's safe. Otherwise I will be useless to you. Do you understand?"

A wistful, sad smile crossed the ghost's – no, Matthew's – face. He nodded slightly in agreement, "Yes, I understand. I always told Gilbert how lucky he was to have you after you two would fight and he came to my house to complain. But he'd always been gone in the morning before I woke up. Maybe a day later, maybe a week later, but he'd always go back."

Germany felt slightly disturbed at that. He had always assumed Gilbert ran off to the bar or a fuck-buddy's bed after they fought. It never occurred to him that Gilbert might actually have a friend's shoulder to cry on or voice complaints to.

"Heeeeeeeeeeey, Germany, I brought your pack. Your clone was a lot nice than mine. She actually gave you stuff. Mine stole my extra shirt… always stealing my stuff… so I only had pants and my jacket to give to Canada. I wasn't literally going to give the shirt off my back, y'know?"

Matthew squeezed Germany's hand tightly before forcing himself up and hobbling towards America. Germany slowly followed, more worries piling around his shoulders than ever before.

* * *

><p>AN: I randomly felt inspired to pick up this poor, abandoned fic after a year because I was re-reading Operation Doppelganger while my internet was down. Since I do not usually write outlines, I forgot whatever it was I planned. My muse decided to make sh*t up; this is the result. Hopefully it didn't drag too badly


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